Summary: Derek’s mother and Stiles’ mother were best friends when they were younger. This is how they met and what Derek sees parallel in it.

Author’s Notes: Derek’s mother (Talia) and Stiles’ mother (Vera) were best friends when they were young, like Scott and Stiles are now. Somehow, Derek and Peter are able to see the moment the two first met. Both of them had just lost a family member/parent. The scene is strangely familiar to Derek.

I seriously have this whole back story for these two in my head. Like, huge. ^_^; How they met, life with the pack, magic, why their boys never knew they knew each other, huge. So here’s just one story I thought I could get out.

I just picked the name of Stiles’ mom out of the air. No basis for it.

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Recurrence

Derek’s amazed that his mother was this strong this young. A full wolf form at barely twelve, running blind through the woods after having her world pulled out from under her. ‘Your father’s dead. You’re the alpha now’.

He remembers Laura was only 20.

He’s entranced as she barrels through the trees, all confusion and grief and anger. He knows it all exactly. Derek pays rapt attention as she stops running and Peter, to his left, huffs out a strange noise of knowing and fondness. Talia’s standing still, chest heaving with emotion more than exertion and staring straight at a kid who can’t be more than seven, all round, human eyes and shock.

Talia reacts like what she is, a wolf with a broken heart who isn’t sure what to do with it all. She storms toward the kid and roars in her face.

Nothing happens.

The kid isn’t moving and Derek suddenly dreads whatever they’re supposed to be seeing. If this is all just so he can watch his grief-stricken mother tear some kid apart… He’s begging the girl in his mind to move, show her throat in submission, something, because he doesn’t want that memory of his mother.

But she doesn’t. Won’t.

Talia bears her fangs, snaps and snarls at the child.

“…I’m…not…” The kid shakes her head all of a sudden and her amber eyes narrow, little fists clenched at her sides. She steps forward, forcing Talia to lean her head back. “I’m not afraid of you!”

A lie anyone, wolf or not, would see right through. The child’s legs tremble, tears still cloud her vision; she’s afraid, but she’s not backing down and Derek knows this like he’s lived it.

Talia’s thrown off enough that her anger retreats, giving way to her grief, her aggressive stance collapses. The little girl’s eyes are sharp on her though, like she expects a trick. She’s wary and not stupid.

When Talia takes a step back, the kid’s hand shoots out and grabs the scruff of her neck, tangling in her fur, and it’s Talia who goes still. The girl leans forward almost hesitantly, but then quickly launches herself forward, throwing her arms around the wolf tightly. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever seen a hug best described as ‘violent’ before, but it fits.

And it’s a little heartbreaking.

Because the girl is shaking and Derek knows she’s crying, was crying before Talia ever stumbled upon her. Because his mother, who just lost her own, is a wolf and Derek can still tell she’s crying too. Talia leans into the girl, muzzle pressed to the juncture of her shoulder and neck, and not for a moment is she ‘alpha’.

The girl stops crying after a bit, but holds on awhile longer. Derek doesn’t think the child notices it, he barely does, when Talia changes from wolf to human again, arms wrapped the smaller girl’s waist.

With a last sniffle, the kid pulls back. If she’s in any way surprised or scared that the wolf she was holding is now a girl a few years her senior sitting naked on the forest floor, she doesn’t show it. Scrubbing her sleeve across her face, the child plops down in front of Talia. She smiles at Derek’s mother, amber eyes (that Derek knows) gleaming up at Talia’s own reddened ones.

“I’m Vera.” Derek hears his uncle breathe her name along with her. If Peter were still capable of true emotion, Derek would think he’d be close to tears himself.

Talia looks like she knows she should be confused or cautious, not even because of werewolf/human, just common sense. But something has completely disarmed her, thrown her off onto a path where nothing she knows makes sense and it’s all because of this damn kid. She doesn’t know why, but she doesn’t ask. She looks at the girl a moment and Derek finally sees his mother’s smile again.

“…Talia.”

“I’d forgotten…How they were together.” Derek looks over at his uncle. He’s no fool. Peter isn’t Uncle Peter anymore. He can’t truly feel. But Derek thinks, looking at him now, he may remember what that Peter used to feel. “They were…” he shakes his head, laughs, bittersweet. “Beautiful…Unbeatable.”

The child’s moved on, it seems, to other matters in her head.

“Are you usually a wolf or usually a girl? Do you live in the woods? I haven’t seen you before. Were you, like, a bird then or something or are you only a wolf? Are you a lot older than me?”

Talia, for her part, just keeps smiling at the girl, seeming to find comfort in running the new name quietly over her tongue.

“Vera.” She repeats, “Vera.”

All Derek hears is ‘Stiles’.

Author’s Notes: I’m thinking post alpha pack. Everyone’s come together as pack/family and with immediate threats gone, other…issues, are free to come up. Mainly Scott/Stiles Friendship with developing Sterek.

Summary: Scott’s woken up to an at-the-end-of-his-rope, annoyed Stiles and, finally completely understands how frustrating it can be to be the friend who just doesn’t get something that’s right in front of them. Bromance of Scott and Stiles with background Sterek.

OR

There are dead animals on his shoes and in his driveway and Stiles would like to know why.

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Have You Never Watched Animal Planet?

Scott blearily fumbles for the phone, hearing Stiles’ ringtone. He’s gotten better at answering lately. They’ve all gotten better actually, at everything.

The pack was more comfortable with each other now. Hell, they really were pack now. No bristling or rebuttals at the term from any of them. It was good. They were good. That doesn’t keep the fatigue or mild irritation from Scott’s voice though.

“’ello?”

“This is your problem. He’s your alpha, so your problem.” Stiles’ voice is moving at that clip that indicates too much (or too little) medication and general frustration. Scott knows he’s pacing back and forth, gesturing vividly with his hands. “So why is your problem, literally, on my doorstep?”

Scott frowns, confused, but still refusing to open his eyes.

“What?”

“You need to talk to Derek. I know it’s him. Growl at him or something before I find a giant newspaper to roll up and beat the crap outta him with it.”

“…What did he do?”

“Last week, there was a dead squirrel on the front porch on one of my shoes. Great. Fine. Over affectionate neighborhood cat, moving on.” Plausible. Because Stiles couldn’t help but feed the strays. Even took them in when it got cold out. Cats, dogs, werewolves, didn’t seem to matter. If something was shivering or its stomach was growling, Stiles would be the one to throw a blanket over it and hit it in the head with a sandwich. ‘Eat it, idiot!’ Well, no one said he was gentle about it.

“Two days later; rabbit. Bugs Bunny lying dead on the front step. Aggressive over affectionate cat? Still fine, but no! Cause the next morning, my dad calls me downstairs. He’s back to looking at me like I’m a serial killer, even after we all went and had that nice little ‘werewolves are a thing’ talk, because there are about a dozen small woodland creatures splayed across the deck. Squirrels, ducks, bunnies, mice…Seriously, it’s like an assortment of awfulness.”

Scott knows something. He finally knows something Stiles doesn’t, but he’s not going to tell him. Where would the fun be? Plus it’s not his place. But they all know and this is getting ridiculous. He thinks, ‘Come on, Stiles. You’re the smart one. You’re so close. What comes in assortments? Flowers? Candy in those little heart-shaped boxes?’

“And then?” Scott prompts because he knew all this already. Stiles had been pretty freaked about it. The Sheriff hadn’t been exactly happy either.

“And then,” Stiles hisses in the tone of ‘why aren’t you as disturbed about this as I am?’ “This morning I couldn’t get the Jeep out of the driveway because a deer, a friggin’ giant antler-having stag, is lying right behind it! And what the hell is so funny?!”

Scott tried to smother it. He really did, but jesus, a deer?! Derek’s getting desperate…

“I know it’s that idiot alpha of yours. What the hell?! I thought we’d gotten over this whole subterfuge of ‘I want to kill you’ a while ago.”

‘Oh no,’ Scott thought ‘You just alternate now between that and-‘ He shook his head to clear away the beginning of things he didn’t like to think about anyone wanting to do with Stiles. Or Stiles wanting to do with anyone. Especially…

Scott made a noise of near physical pain and slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Scott? Hello!”

“He’s not threatening you.” Scott groaned. “And you know he’s not going to listen to anything I say. Why don’t you talk to him?”

“Because he might be feeling a little homicidal in my general direction if recent happenings are any indication!” ‘You idiot’, is tacked on by tone.

“He’s not going to kill you. He doesn’t want to kill you. Just go talk to him.” ‘Please, please go talk to him so this painfully obvious dance you two are doing can be over and I don’t have to think about it anymore’.

Except what if he did? What if Stiles and Derek did finally talk and yell this all out? What if they ended up being one of those TMI couples or the ones that were way to affectionate in public? An image appeared in Scott’s head of Stiles lying across Derek’s lap in the middle of the room and there was nuzzling-

“Beh!” Scott made an abortive noise of distress, flailing and falling out of bed.

“Did you just fall out of bed?” They knew each other too well. “Scott-“

“Just-“ Scott rubbed where his head had thwacked the ground and thought it was just punishment for his traitorous, image-making brain. He still didn’t bother to open his eyes though, let alone crawl back up on the mattress. He was tired. His carpet was soft enough and only muffled his voice a little. “Talk to him, Stiles. For the love of…all of us! Dude, if you care about the pack at all, go. talk. to. Derek.”

“…Fine.”

“Fine.”

“But if you don’t hear from me in an hour-“

“I’m not looking for you.” Scott caught Stiles’ indignant squawk as he pressed ‘End’, tossing his phone vaguely toward the door. No way he’d go looking for Stiles in this situation. Uh-uh. He had a pretty good idea of what he would find if he did.

“Beh!” The dying seal noise surfaced again along with a violent shudder. Scott groped blindly at his bed, pulling the blankets down over him and rolling around until cozily burrito-ed. He buried his head and ardently prayed that none of this would make its way into his dreams. His phone didn’t ring again.

Author’s Notes: 3x01 AU for how I think the pack could find out about Erica. Some snippets of conversation and placement drawn from earlier trailers and promos of the new season.

Summary: They found her in the woods. Season 3 spoiler.

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Moments of Weakness

They found her in the woods. The pack had been searching for months. Stiles, and even Scott, had joined in when it was clear that wherever Boyd and Erica had tried to escape to, they hadn’t made it.

They found her in the woods because they wanted them to.

Stiles, Scott, and Derek had been out this time. Checking old ground, trying to find new trails. There was more and more banter between them all as things went on. Only small bouts of serious posturing and malice remained; mostly between Scott and Derek. It had become routine, which was why it was so jarring when Derek suddenly took off. A few short moments later, Scott bolted after him, eyes gone wide. Stiles ran as hard as he could after them, struggling not to lose them in the trees.

They all knew this was a possibility. Stiles thought he had prepared himself for it, crime scene photos and a horribly vivid imagination; but really, there was just no way to brace yourself for this.

Stiles skidded into the clearing, breathing hard, just as Scott was pulling his hand back with a devastated look on his face. It was clear she was gone, throat slashed and half-lidded eyes glassy. She was laid out perfectly, like an offering, blonde hair a halo around her head.

Scott was on his knees next to her while Derek stood just in front of Stiles, distanced from the central scene and not moving, just staring. Stiles saw the alpha’s jaw clenching again and again, but he didn’t say a word.

Scott looked up at Derek first. Apparently finding no help there, he turned his eyes to Stiles. He looked a second away from breaking down in tears. Scott’s obvious distress triggered that ‘be strong’ ‘protect’ urge in Stiles. He shut down. He had to be in control of this, be practical. He could deal with emotions later. For now, he made himself not feel a thing.

‘You make a good Batman’

It wasn’t easy, but he did it. Closed his eyes, took a breath, and stepped forward; one foot in front of the other. He was slow and cautious as he bypassed Derek, not sure how the alpha was going to react. Or when. But nothing changed and Stiles stepped over to Scott, dropping to one knee beside him. Something soaked into his jeans that he knew was blood, but for now, he decided he didn’t feel that either. He was just numb.

“Stiles…”

Scott’s voice cracks, high and tight. Scott hadn’t known her that well, had even fought her a few times, but he was still crying over her. Because that’s what Scott did, who he was. He always tried to do the good, right, thing. Even if he didn’t always succeed, he tried. He believed the best of people.

It was probably why Stiles had always felt like he had to shield him. That light was hard to come by and Stiles didn’t want to see it dimmed. Stiles had no delusion about being the virtuous hero, but he could help keep the hero going. Stiles was already well acquainted with the dark, so why not run interception?

He put his hands on Scott’s shoulders, drawing his attention away from her on onto him.

“Scott. Hey. Hey man, I need you to listen to me.” ‘Give him something to do. Keep him occupied’. He pulled out his cell phone, showing it to Scott like a parent would dangle keys in front of a child. “None of our phones have bars out here. I need you to take this and find enough reception to call my dad. Tell him we were out walking and…just tell him to come, okay? Tell him what happened. You hear me?”

Scott’s eyes were still wet, but they weren’t as downright terrified as before and that was the point. He nodded slowly to Stiles.

“Yeah…yeah, okay.”

Stiles gave him a pinched smile and patted his shoulder.

“Thatta boy. Come on.” He hauled Scott to his feet and sent him off with a gentle push. He seemed to need it to get moving. Scott gave one last lingering look and went to do as told, both his and Stiles’ phones clenched tightly in his hands.

Stiles waited until he was out of sight to turn back around. With a deep breath, he kneeled next to her again. ‘Later, later. I’ll feel it later’. He reached up and gently closed her eyes. He allowed himself to linger just a moment before standing again and looking toward Derek.

The wolf was turned away, back to them and Stiles prepared himself for whatever was going to happen next. He was betting Derek would lash out. Really his safest bet to avoid bodily harm was to stay just where he was, but did Stiles ever do the sane, safe thing? Nope. ‘Course not.

“Derek?” He gave a wide berth around her and got closer to the wolf one cautious step at a time, ready to run if he had to. “Hey.”

And then Derek collapsed to his knees and Stiles stopped moving, thrown off balance. Derek stared straight ahead and it was several accelerated heartbeats later that anything happened.

“Everyone around me gets hurt.”

Well, shit.

Stiles sighed and moved to stand behind Derek; still a bit of distance borne from personal space and common sense, but closer. He wasn’t good with this stuff, not even with Scott. He never knew the right thing to say, but he always ended up clumsily stumbling through it anyway.

“You didn’t do this, man.” Derek doesn’t move. “This isn’t on you.”

“Of course it is!” He whips his head to the side and Stiles catches a glimpse of red. He doesn’t know why he’s not afraid. It’s far off and vague when he realizes he hasn’t been afraid of Derek for a long time. “I turned them! I was supposed to protect them!”

Stiles was an expert at playing Devil’s advocate.

“They chose to leave. You didn’t even know where they were. You wouldn’t have known they were taken at all if I hadn’t told you they got snagged before by Allison’s nutso grandpa.”

“…Pack is always pack.” Now his voice just sounds broken. Stiles doesn’t have any more words. Or at least not the right ones, especially if he’s set on this ‘feel later’ thing. So he sits down next to Derek instead and says nothing.

Some tension leaves Derek’s shoulders after a minute and he seems to focus on just existing for awhile.

“…Boyd’s probably dead too.” Derek says in a monotone.

“Maybe not.” Optimism isn’t exactly a strength of Stiles’, that’s something he leaves to Scott for the most part. But he tries.

“We’ll get them. The alphas.” Stiles’ voice is confident now because this is something he knows. A quality he and Derek share; this bloodlust, this need for revenge when their own are threatened. “And when we find them, we won’t be calling my dad.”

Derek turns to look at him then, even though Stiles isn’t looking back. Slowly, his back straightens, he breathes deep and his hands stop clenching quite so hard.

“…Okay.” It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Because they were all children, Derek included, and they were going to war; already down by one. There were enemies everywhere, hiding in the shadows, waiting, and no reinforcements were coming. This was going to be bloody. This was going to hurt. But just now, right now, they had a plan to grasp onto.

Beside each other, silent and still, they were okay.

Author’s Notes: Impressions on finale made me write a bit. Cas didn’t seem upset exactly as he watched the angels fall, more in shock. Sam’s still in bad shape it seems, and Dean is confused and worried on Protect mode.

Summary: Coda to 8x23. What happens after isn’t anything remarkable at all, not for them. They find their place with each other once more. Team Free Will fic. Cas POV.

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Stronger For the Fall

Castiel looked up at the sky long after the last of his brethren had fallen. He stayed there, kneeling, for what seems an eternity and an instant. He has no concept of what time is to a human. He supposes he will have to learn.

“-as?…Cas? Hey-“ The noises are vague to his ears as the passage of time had been to his mind. Millennia passing with only a blurred impression of what had occurred. All that time he hadn’t known what to do with when he had no orders, all that information and history he had passed over as inconsequential…it all seemed so important suddenly. He felt as though he had so very little precious time to catch up on all the things he should have been paying attention to all along.

His chest was tight. Is this what humans felt? Would he always feel this? How did they go on? They kept going day after day, century after century, building things they knew they would never have time to complete, to understand, to atone for. There was so much…

“Cas.” A hand on his shoulder roused Castiel, just a little. He knew the form beside him as no threat, though he didn’t know how; he couldn’t reach out on an imperceptible plane as he’d been able to before. Perhaps something remained, inherent in him, that refused to give way to humanity. Something that would always connect him to his fallen family, separate him from humanity, would keep him somewhere in between two identities for the rest of his existence, however long that may be now. None of them would never truly belong anywhere. “Cas, we’re here.”

The voice shook, the hand on his shoulder tightening and loosening awkwardly. Unsure, but determined. Winchester.

“Cas?”

Sam.

(He’d think later on how they found him, knew he was near them in the woods, on how Sam still resonated and glowed from the inside out and how those things related.

It struck him that, for all the wasted time he had been in existence, he knew these two brothers better than anyone in any time before. It was a strange thought that he couldn’t keep hold of. Sam kneeled beside him. He wasn’t sure for how long. Time, it seemed, would take him longer to understand.

He sensed the other one too. The one who had borne his brand for so long. It occurred to the former angel that only two beings in all existence had been cast into the Pit and walked out alive and with their own eyes. They had been flayed open and torn apart in ways that not even the angel he was just a short time ago could understand.

Only these two.

And he was the only one who had seen them both as raw as they were then. Had laid a hand on each of them and done his best to tear them out of their torment.

Castiel was again unsure why, but it made him feel special, warm. He had made a decision on his own, his very first, to stand with these two brothers who had defied the divine plan simply because of their love for one another. That decision to walk beside the Winchesters (but never between them because that could not be done) was the only one he could truly say he’d never regret.

Sam was next to him, but Dean held himself away. Far enough that Castiel could read the wariness and lingering hurt without any enhanced capabilities, but close enough that he could reach out to Sam if he had to. Never far away from little brother.

He was so far away…

“…There are no more of us…”

The stilted hand on his shoulder tightened resolutely. Sam shifted from kneeling, to firmly planting both knees in the dirt under him, settling down. Castiel felt the tremors run through Sam, knew he was not healed, the Trials were not done. All he could be was grateful.

Sam turned his head in Dean’s direction. Whatever look was on his face, it galvanized the older brother into action and he came to stand behind Sam. They were all quiet and Castiel continued to look at the sky, truly empty for the first time since its creation.

A hand falling on his opposite shoulder again pulled him back. Castiel could hear the heavy tone that indicated Dean’s pinched expression, the tightness and unhappy curl of his mouth; Uncomfortable with any emotion or display of affection outside of his brother. But here he was…

“There’s only ever been one of you.”

Castiel breathed, what he would later think of as the first true breath of his new existence. He blinked and, while he still saw the darkened sky, he could see the trees surrounding him too. What mattered more than what he saw was what he could feel.

On either side of him, a Winchester sat. The boys who defied destiny and heaven and hell, in this moment, this infinitesimal speck of time, remained at his side and shielded him from the same world they had saved. It was alright. For just this moment, it was alright.

Castiel closed his eyes and breathed.

Summary: The alpha pack’s final move forces all of them to choose what’s truly important. Alphas included. All along, it had only been Deucalion that had truly known what was going on and why. It had been just as much a test for his pack as for Derek’s. Spark!Stiles. Mild spoilers?

Author’s Notes: Not as polished as I’d like, but wanted to get this out there before it was blown out of the water by the premiere.

Things to know for fic: Deucalion is blind, but badass. Deaton and Morrell know more than they’ve ever revealed. Scott and Stiles had a pretty major fallout previous to this, which is based off their future canon fight that brought tears to the cast’s eyes. Aiden was assigned to keep tabs on Lydia, Ethan was told the same for Danny. Erica is dead (still sad) which Boyd was broken up over badly for a long time.

The alpha pack showing up is all about tests; the strength of Derek’s pack and how well they could come together when it mattered, the extent of Stiles’ potential as a ‘spark’ or more, Deauclion was even testing his own pack.

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Form or Fall

Aiden looked like he was struggling with himself. Lydia stepped closer.

“Just tell me. Whatever it is-“ She was in love, but she was strong too. “Dammit, Aiden, I swear-“

“They’re going after your friend.” He said it in a rush, eyes closed, forehead resting on hers, like a purge. He seemed torn, in pain, but committed. “He doesn’t know what he is, but they want him. And if they can’t get him on their side…” ‘They’ll kill him.’ He didn’t say but let hang in the air. Lydia was smart. So, so, smart in every way that made him love her, and she was miles ahead. She heard what he hadn’t gotten near yet.

“Stiles.” She told him, didn’t ask. “It’s Stiles.”

He doesn’t have time to nod before she’s spinning away, racing to her part of the relay of information. Aiden doesn’t regret it, this decision, knows his brother has already fallen in the same way he has for the other human, knows that’s marked them already anyway. He just hopes she forgives him-

Delicate hands grips the sides of his face and he starts into the hard kiss. Lydia pulls back, wide eyes on him, shining in tears, in gratitude.

“Thank you.” She breathes and she’s off again. Aiden finally breathes too.

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Derek is a second ahead of Scott and he breaks the door in, sounds of the others fighting behind them ebbing away in their focus. Derek chokes on a breath.

‘Late. Too late, again. Always too damn late.’ Loops through Derek’s head, flashing back to Erica in the morgue, Boyd broken down from the loss, Issac screaming in pain, Stiles slashed and still and bled out on a fuckin’ alter in the middle of a magic circle with two alphas standing over him.

Kali stands over him with a certain edge to her already feral expression, lips quirked in satisfied triumph. They don’t have time, Derek or Scott, to call out when her hand presses to Stiles’ forehead.

And nothing happens.

Nothing.

The surprise and confusion on her face is satisfying, but never enough to make any of this worth it.

Deucalion just smiles in that knowing way of his at the lack of response, unseeing eyes perpetually hidden behind dark glasses.

“What’s-“

“Power can’t be stolen,” He inclines his head a bit to where he seems to still be looking down at Stiles, but clearly speaking to Kali. “From a true Red.”

Kali’s shock morphs to rage quicker than usual, roaring at the head alpha, but her fangs, her claws are turned to the boy still beneath her.

But Derek and Scott had already heard his heartbeat in the interim of confusion. They felt it and they’ve already moved. Derek lunges and slams her back, both barreling into the solid cement wall, pulling her as far away as he can so-

“Grab him!”

He didn’t need to say it, it just came anyway. Scott was already bowed over Stiles, wolfed out and almost mindless with rage. Whatever difficulties the past few months had put between them, normal growing pains and manipulations of supernatural origin, it was nothing to what they were to each other when it really mattered. Derek knew that. And he knew Scott couldn’t have been any more vicious, any more eager to hurt and punish and watch something bleed than if it had been Allison lying there so still.

The golden-eyed pseudo alpha put his body all into it as he blocked the unnaturally quick attack of Deucalion, took every bit of the blow and rolled with it, making sure to bring the man with him. ‘Away, away, get him away’, seemed to be the common thread between Derek and Scott at the moment. Good. It was more, it was better, than anything Derek had hoped for in the last few years of dealing with the teenagers. They were completely on the same wavelength.

“I’ll kill you!” Kali seemed too off balance, too confused by recent revelations to come up with her usual, admittedly intelligent, banter. That was fine with Derek. He grinned at her, all teeth, and said nothing as they rushed one another.

Deucalion was, predictably, quiet as Scott raged at him. He rolled and bit and rebounded again and again, herding the man back, away from Stiles. It went on. Issac and the other were occupied with the throw away lackeys of the alpha pack out front. It was just the two of them in this fight and they knew it. Up against two full alphas…

Scott screamed in pain, getting Derek’s attention back on the beta now crouched low on the ground, metal pipe through his midsection and scrambling to pull it out, to get up just one more time as Deucalion approached. The older wolf sighed, seeming almost disappointed, but he had claws poised all the same.

Cement dust and building bricks fell around Derek and it took a moment for him refocus on Deucalion while still making sure not to be gutted by Kali. The blind alpha had been thrown clear to the other end of the room, away from Scott, and embedded in the wall. Large glass fragments littered the alpha’s torso, pipes from behind the façade of the building bent in around him. The caved area around him was the perfect impression of a body, something out of Looney Tunes. It was almost comical, the humor in the violence. It was a signature personality trait that Derek knew. Derek blinked blood out of his eyes and looked to the center of the room.

Stiles crouched as low to the ground as Scott, blood still flowing freely from slashed veins, hand shaking where it clenched on the cement, holding himself as upright as he could. Stiles’ face was bloodless, his breathing stilted, eyes wide.

It wasn’t the first time Derek was struck speechless by the human, but it was the first time he was truly afraid. Whatever that was, Stiles had done it.

“Stiles.”

Scott had ripped the pipe from his chest and was slowly moving toward his friend. Deucalion was older though, and a true alpha. He was faster. He had ripped himself out of the impression in the wall and was barreling toward Scott, intent on the kill.

Stiles tried to run to Scott like his legs could still support him, but he just couldn’t, barely holding onto consciousness as it was. He collapsed back to his knees with a panicked cry, useless hand outstretched.

The oldest, strongest alpha Derek knew, stopped, head yanked to the side, dark glasses knocked away. Slash marks opened the flesh on his face, he wasn’t even healing yet as he turned scarred, sightless eyes to Stiles.

Struggling to hold his head up, to not just collapse in his own blood, Stiles stared him down. Deucalion smiled slowly, advancing on the teen.

Derek made an aborted attempt toward them before Kali shook off her own shock and was on him again, clawing at him wherever she could reach. She was all wrath, little finesse now, nothing like before and Derek could win. Except he was going to lose. He could kill her, but Deucalion was going to kill Stiles and Derek would lose.

Stiles was gasping in short breaths. Half-lidded eyes caught Derek’s for only a moment, message clear as Scott screamed and scrambled toward him in blind panic. ‘Get them. Take care of them. Lead them. Don’t let this destroy you.’

Derek roared and turned to Kali. He shook her off, pushed her back, and attacked. This tragedy was happening again because he was too late and he could at least do this. His world narrowed down to one painfully human, taking in every last defiant beat. ‘Don’t watch. Don’t make me watch’.

Derek flung Kali against the wall without giving her time to regain her footing. She slashed deeply into his side, bit into his neck and he flipped her onto her back where he had the advantage he needed. Derek slashed her throat in an even less satisfying parody of his uncle’s first death before she could utter a single word.

He didn’t want to turn around, not for anything. But though he may be condemned to be a failure, he would not be a coward. Turning, he stood in cautiously optimistic shock.

Scott was beside Stiles, grabbing his shoulders, touching his face and calling out; trying to get the teen to focus even as his head lolled against the solidity of the alter behind him and Scott’s own wounds still bled freely.

Deucalion’s head was tilted as he regarded the tall “vet” standing between him and the children.

“Alan.” He had the same infuriatingly knowing smile on his face that had always been, and remained, mirrored on Deaton’s. “I thought you were content to be an observer in these proceedings.”

“Oh, I think you and I know that certain recent…changes have altered that role.” Deucalion’s smile didn’t waver as Morrell appeared behind him. Her expression was more serious than Deaton’s. Though she had no weapon, was not poised to attack, she seemed somehow more dangerous than either of the men. Deucalion moved just enough to signal that he noticed her, but nothing more.

The wolf nodded at the vet, slashes across his face knitting together slowly. Very slowly.

“You’ve gathered the information you desired about your pack, haven’t you? You’re done here?” Derek was tired of being surprised, numb to it. He thought the alphas had been here to recruit him, to pit him and Scott against one another and take back the pick of the litter. But that didn’t seem to be it at all. Deucalion sighed.

“I have.” He tilted toward Kali’s cooling body. “Much went as expected.” He shook his head reproachfully. “Though some…did not.” Only then did Derek notice Ethan at the door to the warehouse. He could sense Danny near, behind him, every line of the younger wolf’s body tensed and ready to defend. Deucalion smiled and it was the first one that Derek didn’t take as a threat or a vengeful promise.

“So with all your goals met…”

“I’ll leave. There won’t be anymore interference from us.” Deaton waved his hand purposefully and Allison, having appeared beside Danny, lowered her bow. Derek noticed the hunters poised in the shadows around them.

Allison had proven herself to them as a capable leader as of late and they would not go against her decision. She was closer than was necessary or safe for an archer. But, a bit older and much wiser, she had complete control over herself to the degree that, had Derek not known that she was vibrating with the desire to run to her lover and his best friend, he never would have noticed.

Deucalion seemed to spare Derek and the boys behind Deaton hardly another thought, not even glancing over as Derek moved closer to his downed pack.

“They’re young. They’re uncoordinated and poorly trained. You have your work cut out for you. Good that you’re not alone.” He wasn’t talking to Deaton anymore and Derek knew it, he just didn’t care. He had moved beside and slightly behind the vet, eyes on Deucalion, but reaching back for the boys pawing through their own blood. “Fire isn’t always something to be feared, Derek. Sometimes, it is necessary. Integral to our very core”.

Deucalion turned to the exit of the warehouse, reaching out his hand for the dark glasses Morrell was handing him and putting them back in place. He nodded at Ethan as he passed, at Aiden who had appeared beside his brother. He stopped for only a moment.

“You are no longer alphas…”

“We’re okay with that.”

“…Good”. And he was truly pleased, no lie in his tone. “You’ll do well.” The last alpha of the invading pack walked out. Past former enemies and new lovers. Past hunters fighting, bleeding for the creatures their kind preyed upon. Past those who’d had their world ripped away and come back stronger for it. He walked away from old bonds and newly discovered strengths. He walked through all of them, calmly, contentedly, through the new pack that would prove stronger than all of them, he was sure.

Pain, loss, made people see things differently, focus on ties that would have been ignored in everyday life. Letting the possibility of who these children could be would have been the true tragedy, to let this potential flare out and die so quickly.

Smiling still, Deucalion liked to think he’d had a hand in preventing that waste of talent. What they made of it now, well…

(The beta with the capacity, but never the desire, to be an alpha’s panicked tone mingled with the steadier, but insistent words, of the true alpha, both calling out the same name.

The name rang out again as a blur of beige and fear ran past Deucalion, gun still smoking in his hand.

He heard the woman, Morrell’s, voice as she worked her way in next to the downed human with all the calm that would surely infuriate their little group time and again.

The twins stood together, watching their humans and trying to work out their role in this new place, their new lives.

The huntress and her father, the tested and battered, but not broken, betas, even the once-dead false alpha, stood firmly between Deucalion and the goings on inside the warehouse; some watching him, some turning inward.

He felt Deaton’s eyes on his back. The man would be playing a new role now, it seemed. Finally gone from guide to teacher now that he’d clearly seen the aptitude, the power in that boy. The wolf thought it about time.

Hands pressed over wounds, unsure and cautious. Dazed eyes lolled to meet red and the fumbling hands turned steady and sure. There was a huff of breath, words too light for even Deucalion to hear if they’d even been truly spoken at all. But it must have been heard by the one it was intended for as the alpha huffed right back at him, something in him loosening.

Fingers covered in the blood of the slain, covered over again in the blood of the one between them all, connecting, curled around a human-fragile neck, settled over a pulse point, settled down, just settled.

Deucalion was not ashamed of the shiver he felt along his spine as the spark flared into a fire that would become so much more, the wolf surged forward, renewed to protect and defend with everything he had. The pack formed and curled and began to overlap in such a way that nothing could slither in between them, into gaps of trust that could have been their downfall before, but simply weren’t there any longer.)

The rest was their business.

Author’s Notes: A few different perspectives on the pack reacting after Stiles has been hurt badly. It’s purposely vague what exactly happened to him. It’s always seemed more horrific to me to imagine what could have happened than to be told.

Summary: Stiles was taken away from them. They got him back, or they thought they did. But they might have been too late already.

Three snapshots as The Pack reacts to a different Stiles after he’s tortured. Jackson grasps for a reaction through violence, Allison is overwhelmed by her own perceived helplessness, and Derek, Derek is just desperate and stumbling.

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Lost it All

(Anger)

“Jackson!” He’s stalking away, but he stops because it’s her and he could never walk away from her, never again. Even if her voice was sharp and cutting, reprimanding and angry. He spins on her.

“I didn’t-“ he yells, cuts off. He doesn’t know why he started that sentence. He hadn’t meant to, but it was true. Lydia’s watching him with a tight expression, saying nothing, just waiting in that perfect pissed off way of hers. He heaves out a frustrated breath and pulls a rough hand through his hair, pacing.

He’s not good with this, doesn’t know what to do with it. But all he can see is himself, claws out in an empty threat with desperation clawing through his chest, almost frantic for a reaction as he stared into cold, unmoved eyes. Not unafraid because he was playing the brave little human, but because he didn’t care. Jackson could have torn his throat out and he genuinely didn’t care.

What Jackson refuses to think is that that was what Stiles had been waiting for and wouldn’t have minded, might have even been grateful.

He feels sick.

He turns his back on Lydia, clenching his eyes closed tight to try and dispel the flat indifference in Stiles’.

“I didn’t mean to…” Jackson could have been completely serious about hurting Stiles and the other teen think he would have let him. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

Arms wind around his waist and he breathes. Strawberry hair against his back has always calmed him, but she’s shaking too. She’s scared too.

“I know.” She tells him, absolving and confessing something that she rarely ever does; she doesn’t know what to do either and she’s afraid. There’s a problem she can’t solve, a person she can’t reason her way through and fix and she’s absolutely terrified.

He wraps his arms over hers and they stand there for a long time.

(Helpless)

Allison had bandaged him up when it was the worst, the first time. After Derek had set him down so reluctantly in the back with her and Scott so he could drive because someone had to. Derek had been covered in Stiles’ blood the entire night, wide-eyed and unnoticing.

It had taken long moments before Scott had uncurled enough from around his friend, stopped growling lowly and let her near. He’d held him so gently, as carefully as he’d ever held her.

She’d pressed on the bleeding, wincing when he didn’t. She wrapped what she could get to with what she could find; torn strips of blankets around his arms, an old sweater against the mess of his back, pressed to Scott’s chest, her scarf, held down with her shaking hands, over his abdomen.

Scott said she talked to him the whole time, mumbled every word of comfort she’d ever heard. She didn’t cry, not when Scott already was.

She’d tried her best to piece him together, hold him there and keep him, make him stay. Now she couldn’t even do that. There was no more bleeding to slow, no more shallow breaths or unsteady heartbeats to count. Nothing and everything to fix.

Something had splintered, died inside of Stiles. She knew that. She just wasn’t sure if it was something They had done, or if Stiles had done it to himself. The will to survive was a strong instinct, after all.

Stiles was walking and talking and smiling and dying in front of them every day and she couldn’t do anything. All his wounds had healed over into scars, most easily hidden by clothes. He looked almost the same physically. But she was sure that there were injuries she had missed that first night. They were still bleeding and too deep for butterfly bandages.

Allison might have a bow and some useful knowledge and leverage with other hunters, but she still often felt her own inadequacy compared to the rest of the pack. She couldn’t do much when it came down to it, but, she had decided, she could take care of them when they couldn’t take care of themselves. She could be there, waiting to comfort them and give them something steady and dependable to fall back on in a crisis (not a safe place to go because they already had someone for that).

But she’d failed.

Later That Night, the pack gathered, huddled, in a small impersonal room, saying nothing. Her father was there, leaning against the wall, troubled expression flickering between her and down the long hallway.

When the silence was too much, she stood and quietly, stiffly excused herself. Scott didn’t reach for her, too focused on faint signs of life. She wandered, feeling disconnected, down to an empty supply closet and closed the door. Later, when Scott’s tears had finally stopped and a blank expression had settled in it’s place, when she didn’t have to be strong anymore, she cried and keened and sunk to the floor.

She stayed there a long time.

(Grief)

Derek’s angry. Growling at Stiles, scarred back pressed against the wall, pinned.

“Try again.”

Derek stutters at the voice, tone strange, strained and far away. He sees red marks on Stiles’ neck from where he has his hand, claws having extended without permission. He jerks away in horror, like he’s been burned. Before he can either stutter an apology or drop to his knees and beg forgiveness, Stiles leans slightly away from the wall, toward him. Not curled in or with arms up defensively, but instead with his head held back, throat exposed.

“Try again.” He’s so calm, almost pleading, begging for claws around his neck, for blood running down his chest and Derek’s destroyed by it.

This is his mess, his fault all over again. He kept dragging the teen into this world. Derek’s the one that broke him, he knows that. Even if he was miles away, tearing the town apart with the rest of the pack, searching and latching onto every lead, even if he wasn’t one of the faces Stiles saw in his nightmares, Derek knows it was still him.

“Try again, try again,” Stiles is chanting, tears in his eyes and smiling madly. This time, Derek does sink to his knees, grabbing Stiles wrist, clutching him, dragging him down with him.

Wrapped up tight, Derek doesn’t know if he’s anchoring Stiles down to the world or holding him under.

Found this gif set on tumblr:

http://fuckyeahstilesderek.tumblr.com/post/34778491964/teen-wolf-au-x-how-to-train-your-dragon-ill-kill

And I couldn’t help myself when it fit perfectly with a story blurb I’d already been thinking about. I hope the gif maker doesn't mind. Not an expert at using tumblr at all. ^_^;Enjoy!

Summary: Stiles tries to diffuse a tense situation between Derek and the Sheriff, but with his throat injured, he has to communicate 'don't kill. don't glare' to them both effectively another way. The Sheriff knows about werewolves.

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How To Train Your Werewolf (And Father)

Stiles couldn’t talk, couldn’t communicate to his father that Derek wasn’t a threat. The one time he really needed to speak and the same injuries that led up to this confrontation of parent and rescuer, also prevented him from stopping it. Being tossed around and nearly strangled by rival packs sucked.

The two were already nose to nose, completely on the Sheriff’s end. One righteous fury and one careful indifference. Stiles knew Derek wouldn’t actually hurt his father, but he wasn’t sure the favor would be returned. And a werewolf full of bullet holes, however non-lethal, was something they did not need right now.

Stiles pushed himself between them, hands on his father’s chest. He tried to say something, anything; ‘stop’, ‘friend’, ‘good werewolf’, anything, but no sound came out. His harsh, painful gasps of air as he tried for words only made his father look more furious, made Derek tense behind him.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times, frustration increasing as his father’s expression turned from anger to heartbreak the longer Stiles floundered. Running a hand through his close-cropped hair, Stiles edged closer to frustrated panic and looked around the room.

His face lit up as something caught his eye. He abandoned his place as guard rail between the two men and went to retrieve it. He needn’t have worried about them fighting in his brief absence, both sets of eyes locked on him, not each other.

He came back waving a DVD case in front of his father’s face. The man looked at the movie, one they both knew, with confusion. When he looked at Stiles again, the teen turned to Derek, showing him the cover. The werewolf’s perplexed expression mirrored the Sheriff’s almost perfectly

Stiles twisted his mouth into a disappointed ‘you know this’ kind of frown and darted his eyes from Derek to the Sheriff and back again. He stared at Derek, trying to telepathically beat his point into that thick wolf skull of his. After a second, the most annoyed, long-suffering look Stiles had ever seen crossed Derek’s face, but he nodded his understanding.

Stiles looked pointedly at his father, holding up the DVD, ‘How To Train Your Dragon’, again, and indicating that the man needed to pay attention. Stiles held up his hand and grinned at Derek. Narrowing his eyes, Derek begrudgingly stepped forward and bumped Stiles’ hand, pressing his forehead into the teen’s palm.

Stiles absolutely beamed at his own cleverness (and at getting Derek to go along with it). He turned back to his father whose face had lost most of the lines of anger and apprehension. Now it once again mirrored Derek’s; bemused and exasperated. They shared the look over the shoulder of their source of frustration.

See?, Stiles thought, they were bonding already.

Summary: In which it is the morning after and the pack is home.

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Fires 02

Stiles tries to walk casually out of the room and immediately realizes it’s futile. The pack’s eyes are all wide and knowing, they sit straight up. It is so too early in the morning for this.

It’s obvious from his scent, of course. But Stiles thinks maybe he should have just gone ahead and taken two showers because even Allison is looking at him the same wide-eyed, back-straight, meerkat way and he’s almost sure hunters don’t have super-senses. Yeah, so it’s beyond obvious.

‘Alpha claimed…thoroughly.’

Stiles knows he should be somewhat embarrassed that the entire pack is witness to his very first morning after, but he’s just too damn blissed out and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Something about waking up with Derek curled against his back seems to have that effect on him.

Scott’s the first one to stumble back into coherency.

“…Dude.”

Jackson’s next to start to open his mouth, lips twisted into a teasing grin. Stiles cuts him off happily.

“Shut up. You’re a giant lizard.” His default insult when Jackson picks on him. He addresses each of the rest in turn; Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Danny. “Sorry about the mental scarring, but not really. Yes, it was great, but we will not be comparing notes cause ew. No, I’m not going shopping with you any more frequently. And everything you say is right and Derek wanted me to thank you.” To the remaining three betas, he just says, “And you all can just join Jackson in the shutting up, cause I got laid and it. Was. Awesome.”

He walks leisurely out of the room and into the kitchen, leaving the pack in momentary stunned silence before bursting into sound. There’s giggling and disbelief and gloating ‘I told you so’s’, and if he knew Scott, and he did, his best friend would be running out of the Hale house in just under a minute, red-faced and twitching, unable to handle the ensuing speculation, especially his girlfriend’s teasing.

Stiles grinned as he leaned against the counter with coffee. He couldn’t wait until Derek woke up.

Summary: Two quick humor fics of Derek and Stiles with peripheral Scott. Also, Derek is vengeful in thoroughly embarrassing ways.

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Fires 03-a

“You’re an idiot.” Stiles says fondly and it’s a testament to how off guard Derek is that his defacto response isn’t to threaten the kid. “I like idiots.”

Stiles grins and shrugs, gesturing behind them to where Scott is falling all over himself while Allison laughs warmly at him.

“They’re, uh, familiar territory.”

Fires 03-b

Derek isn’t the kind of vengeful that’s all threats and blood, not most of the time anyway. He prefers to bide his time, wait until something, or someone, has annoyed him to the point where they just send him right over the edge. His retaliation is carefully planned and executed.

So when Scott has been working his last nerve for the better part of a week, all it takes is one little tiff, that he won’t even remember the subject of later, with Stiles that seals the deal. He waits a block away from the school and when both boys are walking in for class, he puts his car in drive and his beautiful-in-its-simplicity plan, into action.

“Hey,” He calls loudly out the window and waits for the two to turn around (along with the lingering students because that’s just a bonus). He moves his sunglasses down and only sees Stiles’ confused expression peripherally, eyes locked on Scott. He grins wide, all teeth. “I’m fucking your best friend.”

He winks at the round-eyed teen and tears off, laying rubber. In the rearview, he sees Scott looking like a traumatized veteran of some god awful war and a red-faced Stiles flailing, cursing, trying to explain and swearing his vengeance all at once.

Derek grinned. He couldn’t wait.

Summary: Two micro comment-fics of angst followed by one humor in which Derek  is beset by toddlers and Stiles is confused.

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Fires 04-a

“Because he’s just like his mother.” The Sheriff smiled, but Derek could sense how bittersweet any remembrance like this was for the man, could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “He’s that spark, just like she was, that sets it all off and holds everything together….They’ve always burned so bright…”

Derek takes it as the soft warning it is. Watch him, protect him, even from himself.

Those that burn twice as bright, burn half as long.

Fires 04-b

“I can’t. I can’t let you die, I can’t. You understand that?”

Stiles is looking more past Derek than at him, dragging in slow, wet breaths that barely move his chest at all. Derek’s fingers are slick and sliding in the blood that just won’t stop as he tries to grasp the boy’s face and make him look at him. Make him understand.

“So you have to keep your eyes open. You have to…or you’re going to hate me forever because I won’t let you die.”

Fires 04-c

In which Derek somehow stumbles into babysitting a few cubs from an allied pack and is completely out of his depth.

Derek just manages to get the milk out of the refrigerator and goes for the glasses when another succession of clangs and crashes echoes from the living room. Already twitching, he makes it to the archway between the rooms and just stares.

The pups have managed to knock over a bookshelf and are climbing on it, nipping at each other playfully. One pup is yowling in the corner as another pulls on his ear with her teeth. They’ve somehow managed to get play-doh and, what Derek thinks is finger paint over everything. It’s smeared on the sofa, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. A splash of color streaks across the TV too as some colorful, repetitive show plays.

And the noise, dear god the noise.

And Derek’s just had it. He can’t He just can’t.

“Shut. Up!” he yells. There’s a moment of stunned, blessed silence and a secession of all activity. In that interim, the front door opens and Stiles walks in, first to arrive for the pack meeting. His mouth is half-open like he’s about to call out to Derek, but then he looks up and does a double take.

And then everyone starts bawling.

Stiles surveys the destruction in the room and the now crying and howling pups. He turns to the seething, frustrated alpha and raises his eyebrows. The teen holds up a hand and slowly opens his mouth.

“…I have many questions.”

Author’s Notes: Warning for brief depiction of non-con.

Summary: Derek and Stiles have been caught by a rival pack. Their alpha is far too interested in Stiles and far too eager to cause Derek to suffer. Non-con warning!

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Fires 05

Stiles glares at the rival alpha, as he grasps Stiles’ face, smiling, leering, at him. He can actually feel every strain in Derek’s muscles as he tenses and pulls at his chains. Far too close for comfort, Stiles watches the man’s grin turn into something darker. His eyes are on Stiles, but his words are obviously directed at Derek.

“What better way to prove this is our territory now than by taking the old alpha’s mate?”

Derek loses his mind. He snarls, gnashing his teeth and biting at the air, like he had the other alpha’s throat in his jaws. He’s howling, roaring in fury.

Stiles knows Derek’s hurting himself pulling against the chains. He can smell his blood from where the cuffs dig into his wrists. The pack’s not going to find them in time. Derek won’t be able to get loose. Stiles can’t fight off the alpha himself and if he tries, they’ll only hurt Derek. They’re trapped, he’s trapped and there’s no way out of this. This is going to happen and he can’t, he can’t…

He can’t panic.

He won’t beg or cry, not for himself. He won’t let his mate see him scared and think he’s failed, won’t let his pack find him ‘oh god, they were going to find him’ broken and falling apart. He can do this. There may be no way to win, but he won’t lose.  More importantly, he won’t let his pack lose.

Derek’s going to tear himself apart trying to get to him. Even if Stiles can’t stop this nightmare from happening, he can do everything possible to lessen his mate’s pain and the guilt he knows will follow no matter how many times he tells Derek (with everything he had and no smell of a lie to him) that this will never be his fault.

Stiles grits his teeth, forcing a cocky smirk at the alpha on top of him. Don’t back down. Don’t be afraid. Don’t let him see you afraid.

“You really that desperate for a date?” He looks the wolf up and down, “Cause I could definitely see why.”

The alpha sneers cruelly, leaning down close to Stiles, who’s just waiting for him to go for a kiss so he can get in a good bite, draw some blood of his own.

“Humans don’t belong in packs. Weak, powerless, breakable, human.” He twists Stiles’ arm roughly and Stiles hears something crack. The teen bites through his lip, but he doesn’t cry out. “I’m gonna tear you apart. I’m gonna make you scream.”

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Stiles’ mind goes dark with pain. His back arcs and he claws at the cement underneath him, feeling his nails bend backward, split and crack and bleed. He keeps his mouth closed by sheer force of will, lips already bitten through till blood pooled in his mouth, dripped down his throat. He can’t scream or cry; he won’t give this monster the satisfaction and he won’t let Derek hear his pain as well as see it.

God, Derek’s right there, right there. He’s howling, screaming, pulling at his chains in blind rage and despair. The sounds he’s making…they’re not human, not wolf. Stiles doesn’t know what they are except pure desperate desolation.

Stiles jerks physically as he hears Derek’s bones snap, his wrists, arms, breaking and healing over and over and that, more than anything, makes him want to give in and cry and rage at the injustice of it all.

Stiles’ turns his head to the side, away from Derek. He can’t look at him while this…this, happens. He can’t bear to feel Derek looking at him, his mate forced to witness the assault.

‘If I’d have been stronger, if I’d have known they were coming for us. I should have known; been faster, better, I should’ve…’ Stiles’ thoughts spiral without his permission, as they so often do, but he can’t let himself go there now or he thinks he may never come back.

So he bites through his lip again and the pooled blood spills from the side of his mouth. Stiles’ back scratches against the cement, grating his skin beyond raw. He smashes his head back against the concrete hard enough to black out a moment, concentrating on that pain, that he caused, no one else, it was his. He had control.

His body continues to spasm and jerk in agony with every push of the werewolf above him, in him. Eyes clenched shut, he blocks it all out. Makes himself only hear a dull hum in his ears, everything else fading out into background noise. The taunting words of the monster over him, Derek’s roars that have faded into pleas (‘no, no, don’t let him make you beg’), apologies (‘not your fault, never your fault’), calling out his name (‘I’m here, I’m here, I’m here’), everything.

He smells blood.

Author’s Notes: Excuse for some awesome Erica and Stiles bonding as well as playing it up for my hurt!Stiles kink.

Summary: In which Erica gets to be awesome and take charge when both her alpha and Scott are out of their depth. Hinted Sterek with Erica-Stiles and Scott-Stiles friendship.

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Invaluable Experience

Derek and Scott looked at each other helplessly, eyes conveying panic. They had no idea what to do or what was even happening.

Stiles had just kind of stopped as they were walking to the parking lot. He hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t collapsed or hunched over in pain, he just…stopped. They tried to get his attention, but his eyes were a thousand miles away. Scott had gotten behind his friend, pulled him back, and Stiles had just kind of gone with him. His muscles were taut and Scott and Derek had eased him down to the ground.

 Situated on his back, both wolves checked Stiles over, but he wasn’t wounded. He just wasn’t responding. A fine tremor ran through his body, his breathing was stilted and his fingers were twitching spasmodically.

Erica arrived first to meet them, as she was supposed to, and her back immediately went straight. She shouldered her way in next to Stiles’ side, in front of Scott. She didn’t try to dislodge her alpha, but her voice was still commanding to them both.

“Get your hands off him, don’t hold him down.”

“What are you-“

“He’s having a seizure.”

The boys looked at each other briefly and Scott spoke up.

“But, I’ve seen you have a seizure. It was nothing like-“

“Those were grand mal seizures.” She told him, exasperated like she was talking to a slightly slow child. “This is…a little worse than an absence seizure. Probably stress induced. He doesn’t sleep or eat right. But he’ll be fine.” She added quickly, sensing their tension.

She had her hands held away from the sides of Stiles’ head, bracketing him, but not making contact.

“You said not to touch him.”

“It’s just in case he moves, so he doesn’t hit his head.” She glanced over Stiles quickly, noting the light bruises on his lower arms. “If you wanna help, put something soft under his wrists.”

Erica’s eyes were on Stiles, but she saw Scott practically rip off his over shirt. She almost snapped at him to be careful when he scrambled for his friend, but when he placed the folded-over fabric between Stiles’ skin and the concrete, he was infinitely gentle in the way he touched him.

She didn’t fail to notice Derek’s jacket under his other arm. The she-wolf was wholly concentrated on Stiles, but she could feel the unease in her alpha, the worry.

Scott was a different story, no subtlety, all show. He was rocking a bit, keening in the back of his throat. His fingers scraped across the ground, aching to reach out and Erica softened a bit.

“You can hold his hand if you want.” She told him. “You just can’t pin him down or you could hurt him if it gets worse.”

Scott leapt, hand wrapping around Stiles’ as tight as he dared.

It went on for a bit, Stiles’ eyes continued to flicker unnervingly, his breathing stuttering now and again, unable to find a pattern to fall into that would assuage the werewolves concerns. He wasn’t in danger, Erica had explained, but he wasn’t alright.

Erica began to worry as two full minute ticked by. Just as she was opening her mouth to tell them they maybe should call someone, Stiles gasped a little and blinked. She smiled, letting out a breath.

“Stiles.” She called, making her voice softer than usual, coaxing, like Stiles had done for her when she’d been hurt in the past. “Hey.” She put her hand on his face, turning him to look at her and waiting for his confused, roving eyes to refocus. While waiting, she smirked at what she saw out of the corner of her eye.

He might not be holding onto his hand for dear life like Scott, but Derek had laid his hand over Stiles’ forearm, clutching tightly, eyes trained on the human.

“Wh-what…” He was confused, in pain, and beyond exhausted. She frowned in sympathy.

“You with me, Stiles?” She waited for him to nod slowly. “Good boy. You had a seizure, but you’re fine, okay?  You’re alright”.

Author’s Notes: This ignores the end of Season 2 and kind of rewrites it a bit. Gerard was revealed to be a traitor and killed by a remorseful Allison. Chris almost killed Jackson, but was stopped by Stiles and Derek. Gerard=Bad, Chris and Allison=Misled, but good. Kay? And all this led to Derek, and then Stiles, finally figuring some things out.

Summary: Nothing with Stiles was easy or clean-cut and Derek has always been a bit oblivious himself. It takes time, and many small moments, for them to realize what’s been going on between them without their notice. Sterek get-together fic with some packness.

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Hit By a Planet

Derek knew. He’d never tell a soul, but he knew why he’d ended up with this kid in the end.

It hadn’t been anything like the stories his mother had read them when they were children and didn’t at all resemble what the girls whispered about in the hallways. There was nothing of a fairytale about this and he never saw it coming. It was less like a romantic comedy and more like being run down by a Mack truck.

Repeatedly.

It wasn’t even a pining, one-sided longing thing either because Stiles had been just as blind-sided. Derek took a bit of pride in the fact that Stiles was even a bit slower to catch on than he had been. He had to have something over the teen after all, just to save his pride.

Because Stiles was the most extraordinary of the ordinary.

There wasn’t one crystallized, perfect moment of realization or anything. Rather, one small thing after another. That’s why Derek hadn’t noticed what was happening, what he was feeling, enough to give it much thought or name until he was being practically slapped in the face with it.

Stiles was terrified of him when they met, he was the smart one after all. He was still afraid of him months later, but that didn’t stop him from standing toe to toe with Derek, staring him down from practically the same height, growling at him in defense of his friend. He stood up for Scott no matter how many times he got smacked down for it. Eventually, he’d begun doing the same for the rest of the pack, even standing up and arguing with Derek, for Derek.

‘Someone’s gotta protect you from you’, he’d say with a glare.

Derek loved how stupid the smartest person he’d ever met could be.

He loved the things he should have hated.

Like the silvery scars Stiles had across his back. They ran up from his hip, crossed his spine, to curl just a bit around the back of his neck, narrowing at the ends. For all Stiles’ total agreement and, sometimes provocation, that they had to kill Jackson and his genuine feeling that Jackson was and would always be the biggest douche on the planet; when it came down to it, Stiles still couldn’t just let him die.

Jackson would have probably left a few good wounds on Chris Argent, but the hunter’s modified gun, along with the machete at his hip, would have taken the out of control teen down in the process.

It was total confusion on both sides after Gerard had been revealed as the true snake. Allison had even been the one to deal the final blow. But that had left the kanima with no master. And, even if it was clear he didn’t want to, Chris knew an uncontrolled monster had to be put down. It was a task he would not allow to fall on his daughter’s already burdened shoulders.

 Jackson had turned, sensing the threat and facing the hunter. Stiles had moved and Derek had followed a second later. Stiles knocked Chris’ aim off, standing between the hunter and the lizard. Derek got an arm around Jackson, pulling him to the ground. Derek had probably saved Stiles’ life, but the teen hadn’t escaped unscathed.

The gashes had been deep, almost touching bone and they had looked even worse. So bad in fact that Scott and Allison had reacted with their most base emotions of horror and fear, leaving vengeance and hate no room to influence their actions.

They threw away whatever was still stuck between them and met in the middle over their wounded friend, hands pressed together over his back. Allison had even snapped her hunters back with sharp words and directions. They’d left obediently, but her father had stayed to help.

Things had been better between the Argents and Derek’s pack since then.

When Derek and his three betas had managed to subdue Jackson and give him time to slowly revert to human form with the death of his master, Derek had been beside the small, huddled group of human, wolf, and hunters in an instant. He tried for control, but something in the tension of his body, the desperation of his movements must have betrayed him because Chris moved clearly away from Stiles, palms up.

Derek didn’t hesitate to put himself between them. The two boys had still been clueless about what was between them at that point, but Derek’s instinct was strong to make it better, to protect and guard. And when he looked at Stiles…

That had been when he’d figured it out.

Because Stiles wasn’t whimpering and pleading for him to make it better. The little twerp was smiling up at Derek. He had tears in his eyes, but they were purely pain. He was actually happy, gasping out at the alpha,

“I’m magic. I think…I got the hunter and the werewolf to play nice again.”

Derek was floored, nearly knocked back by incredulity and that feeling of unfamiliar fondness (that was more than fondness) that Derek hadn’t recognized before and had just taken to calling ‘Stiles’.

“Hey…Lizard breath okay?”

Derek huffed at him, smiling and giving him an affirmative nod.

“Shut up.”

He’d laid a hand on Stiles’ neck and that had been it. He’d known who Stiles was and ‘They’ had become a ‘Them’. (Though it did take until Stiles woke in the hospital the next day for him to groggily come to the same spontaneous conclusion).

The marks were something Derek intrinsically hated, wounds on his mate that should have screamed at Derek for his failure. (He did take some satisfaction in the marked flinch Jackson gave whenever he saw them). But Derek loved them too. Because of what they represented and reminded Derek of every time he saw them running across Stiles’ back.

It was an alpha’s job to protect his pack, none more so than his mate, but that was the thing;

Stiles didn’t need Derek to protect him. He didn’t stay where he was safe, he ran headlong into the fray. Not because he was unafraid, but despite his fear. Stiles’ will to defend and save always won out over any apprehension. Unstoppable, that kid.

He stood beside Derek, defended his pack, their pack, shoulder to shoulder. He was strong on his own. Human and fragile and breakable and strong.

For every time Derek had saved the teen, Stiles had pulled him out of the line of fire just as much, let alone the rest of the pack. It may have been Derek’s job to protect them, but it was Stiles mission; not just their safety, but their happiness too.

The teen just shrugged it off any time his devotion to them was mentioned. He’d basically been keeping Scott alive and relatively well their entire lives, now that habit just extended to a few more people. It was just something Stiles did naturally.

The pack didn’t question it, but they never stopped being amazed by it.

Author’s Notes: Something I wrote after 2x10-thereabouts? After Derek finds out Scott was informing on him to Gerard. Pretty much what could have happened next. Derek is pissed, he assumes Stiles was in on it, leading to confused, then pissed off Stiles. With bonus pre-Sterek bonding and examination of Stiles and Scott’s friendship, cause all true friendships go through strain, but they usually come out stronger for it.

Summary: Derek learns about Scott’s betrayal and confronts Stiles, thinking he’s in on it. He’s not. Pre-Sterek and Scott and Stiles friendship. Written before 2x11.

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Once Burned

“You were working with him the whole time.” Stiles is pinned again, of course, because Derek’s here and that’s how this goes. Still, he hasn’t seen this level of anger in the wolf for a while now.

“Okay, so are we gonna play twenty questions where I try to figure out what’s got your fur ruffled this time or-“

“You and Scott have been working with Gerard this entire time!”

“Are you crazy? He’s trying to kill Scott-“

“I heard Scott talking to him. I know, Stiles. What’s your plan, huh? Tear the pack apart once you get all the dirt you can?”

Stiles only catches the first part because his brain has stuttered to a stop which is, truly a remarkable feat.

“…What?” He’s shaking his head, not even thinking as he reaches for his phone. “Scott wouldn’t-“

Derek slams him back.

“Don’t lie anymore!”

“You’re wrong! You got a wire crossed in that werewolkf hearing or you’re just insane, but you’re wrong! Get off of me!”

Stiles shoves him and it’s only because Derek lets him that he gets away, grabbing his phone. He punching in Scott’s number, muttering to himself.

“Stiles, what’s-“

“Have you been talking to Allison’s grandfather?”

“What?” If he hadn’t known Scott since they were in diapers, he’d have never caught the tell in his voice. When had he gotten so good at lying? He’d always sucked at it…hadn’t he? “No, I-“

“You’re lying.” Stiles hisses it in disbelief, in hurt. The confidence is gone from Scott’s voice. He sounds unsure again, like Scott again. He doesn’t give his friend time to stumble over another lie or an apology. “I’m coming over. Now. You’re going to be there. You got that?”

Scott makes noises like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. He sounds like a scolded child when he answers.

“I…yeah. I’ll be here.”

Stiles hangs up with no further words. He has his jacket and keys in his hand before he turns to the door to find Derek still standing there. He’s just staring at Stiles. For once, his expression’s not entirely unreadable. His face looks like Scott’s voice had sounded; halfway to a malformed apology and he doesn’t have time for this now.

“You gonna move so I can get some answers or just stand there and practice looming?”

Derek doesn’t move right away and Stiles stares him down. For once, Derek looks away first.

“You didn’t know.” It’s soft and not a question. Stiles is at least happy about that.

“You’re a genius.”

Derek steps out of the way and Stiles is almost out the door when he stops. There’s something about Derek right then that won’t let him just leave without giving him something.

“Just…I’ll find out what the hell’s going on from Scott after or before I kill him, not sure which yet. I’ll let you know what I find out after. So just go back to the pack for now, okay?” ‘Don’t run around town half-cocked when we apparently don’t have any clue what’s happening now’.

Derek looks at him a long moment, before nodding.

“House. Not the train.”

 “Got it.”

Stiles heads down the hallway and hears Derek make his exit from his window. As he starts the jeep, he hopes Derek remembered to latch it. It looks like rain.

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Stiles is angry in a way he hasn’t been for a very long time, and never with Scott. It’s the kind of hurt rage that leaves him cold inside.

“How could you do this? How could you not tell me you were doing this?!”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“By not letting me know anything? Gerard wants you dead, whatever else he told you was a lie or a half-truth. How could you be this stupid-“

“I told you! I’m protecting everyone! You included!”

“Bullshit! Gerard’s crazy and vengeful and nothing else! He’s not like Chris or Allison! He doesn’t care about anything else! He’s Kate, Scott. Don’t you get that?” His voice has gone low and icy, but his eyes are blazing. “He’s gonna use you to take out every last werewolf you can lead him to and then, he’s gonna kill you. And he’s not gonna stop. Anyone that’s helped them, he’ll turn on them too. My dad, your mom, me, maybe even Allison if she gets in his way. You’re not protecting us, you’re lining us up for a firing squad.”

Stiles never yells at Scott. Never. Not like this. It’s enough to make the boy actually flinch back, eyes wide like he’s finally realizing the gravity of what he’s done. Not the implications for the pack or the town or anything like that, but just what he’s done to Stiles and their relationship. For the first time in their lives, Scott is hit with the chillingly cold realization that he may lose Stiles. This could end them. Or at least damage them in a permanent way.

“I…” ‘I’m sorry’, would sound too empty, too lacking, so Scott doesn’t know what to say. He shakes his head and looks to the floor, bereft. He sees Stiles pace a bit before standing near the wall, looking out the window. Stiles is exhausted from this. Like every ounce of energy has been drained from him with just words. Scott still doesn’t know if his allegiance is wrong, but he knows his lies have been. May have been so catastrophically wrong that he’s lost something he never thought before could be taken away, never had an ounce of fear about losing because it was as certain as breathing.

“…You hate me for this now, right?” He can’t keep the tremor out of his voice. He fears the answer.

Stiles is quiet for a long time and Scott feel cold creeping over him. Finally, Stiles takes a deep breath, still not looking at Scott.

“You’re my friend, you idiot. I could never hate you even if you murdered a bus full of kittens.” It’s the kind of thing Stiles says to make him laugh, but it on auto-pilot. Not an ounce of humor in it. “You’re my brother and I love you, I’d die for you. But I don’t trust you. And I don’t like you very much right now.”

Scott bites back sudden emotion and just nods his head. He doesn’t look up when Stiles walks past him to the door. He doesn’t think he can bear seeing Stiles not looking at him. When he sees Stiles almost gone, he can’t help himself.

“We’ll be…I mean…” He looks at Stiles back, doesn’t miss the significance of his friend not turning to face him. There’s something desperate in his chest. “We’ll be okay, right?”

He thinks he’s having one of Stiles’ panic attacks when it takes a small lifetime to get an answer.

“…eventually. Yeah. I think so. Just…leave me alone for awhile, okay?”

It stings like nothing else, but Scott nods as Stiles walks away. It’s the best he could hope for.

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Derek remembers Scott mentioning something once, mumbled to himself under his breath like he was trying to understand it, but it was a passing curiosity that faded in and out like trying to solve a rubix cude, so Derek didn’t think Scott had ever understood the words he’d repeated or what the person who had said them really meant.

‘Being broken up sucks, but being alone? Is way worse.’

In that moment, Derek understood. Stiles had never been the popular kid, the one people wanted to be around and gravitated towards, but he’d been okay with that. Stiles had his dad, a handful of friends and acquaintances.

And Scott. Even when his friend had begun spending less time with him, absorbed in his own mounting teenage werewolf problems and his girlfriend hunter love escapades, Stiles always had Scott at the end of it. They’d been glue-eating toddlers together, they shared pain and laughter and secrets between them that they’d take to their graves.

But that wasn’t true anymore, was it?

Possibly the biggest, most dangerous situation in their lives and Scott hadn’t let Stiles in on what he was doing. Who he was siding with in this war. Because that’s what it was and they all knew it. And war…

People died in war. So Scott had chosen his side, the wrong side, and had left Stiles out in the middle of the field, not even knowing where the lines of allegiance were drawn.

Derek could empathize.

After shaking the rest of his pack, Derek headed toward the Hale house. He found Stiles waiting, like he said he would be, sitting on the front steps of the burned out former home. His shoulders were hunched in a bit and he looked small and vulnerable and Derek didn’t like it.

Stiles didn’t look up when Derek sat next to him, shoulders touching. Stiles appreciated it, really. Knew how much that had to mean coming from Derek of all people.

They were quiet for a long time, just sitting in silence that was everything but uncomfortable. Finally though, Derek felt he had to at least try to comfort, offer some understanding or advice. He knew what betrayal felt like, after all. He was an expert.

“It’s just…” He stumbled and Stiles heard him make a frustrated sound, like he was trying to find the right words to string together. “It’s better not to trust anyone. You can’t be let down, you can’t be betrayed.”

Stiles thought he’d be angry, usually he would have been. But something about how Derek said it like he believed it to his very core. It just made him sad. Stiles shook his head.

“You’re wrong.” Stiles felt the immediate bristle, but Derek didn’t move away. “People hurt each other all the time. And the ones that really sting, they’re the ones from the people you never see it coming from. So it hurts, yeah, and it sucks and I…don’t like Scott very much right now. But he’s my best friend. I’m not writing him off because he made a very large, gargantuan, deadly stupid mistake. We’ll be okay just….not yet…”

“How can you keep letting him- all of them- in after…” Derek’s more outwardly frustrated now, running a hand through his hair. “They’re only gonna turn on you again. And next time, it’s gonna be worse until you end up getting yourself killed because you kept around these useless people that only use you! You have to stop-“

“I didn’t give up on you.” Derek stops mid rant, looking at Stiles incredulously. “Dude, you threatened to kill me. A lot. But I didn’t write you off.”

“You wanted to shoot me in the head.”

“I want to shoot Scott in the head all the time. I never actually do it. Or let anyone else do it.” He shrugs like that’s something Derek should have known. “I can’t just never trust people, Derek. It’s way too depressing. You should try it. You might get burned, but it’ll heal. And the other option, knowing you can count on someone for anything, that’s worth taking the chance.”

Derek is quiet. Stiles doesn’t try and dwell on what it means when Derek stays there, side of their bodies touching, for the rest of the night.

Summary: In which it is the morning after and the pack is home.

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Fires 02

Stiles tries to walk casually out of the room and immediately realizes it’s futile. The pack’s eyes are all wide and knowing, they sit straight up. It is so too early in the morning for this.

It’s obvious from his scent, of course. But Stiles thinks maybe he should have just gone ahead and taken two showers because even Allison is looking at him the same wide-eyed, back-straight, meerkat way and he’s almost sure hunters don’t have super-senses. Yeah, so it’s beyond obvious.

‘Alpha claimed…thoroughly.’

Stiles knows he should be somewhat embarrassed that the entire pack is witness to his very first morning after, but he’s just too damn blissed out and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Something about waking up with Derek curled against his back seems to have that effect on him.

Scott’s the first one to stumble back into coherency.

“…Dude.”

Jackson’s next to start to open his mouth, lips twisted into a teasing grin. Stiles cuts him off happily.

“Shut up. You’re a giant lizard.” His default insult when Jackson picks on him. He addresses each of the rest in turn; Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Danny. “Sorry about the mental scarring, but not really. Yes, it was great, but we will not be comparing notes cause ew. No, I’m not going shopping with you any more frequently. And everything you say is right and Derek wanted me to thank you.” To the remaining three betas, he just says, “And you all can just join Jackson in the shutting up, cause I got laid and it. Was. Awesome.”

He walks leisurely out of the room and into the kitchen, leaving the pack in momentary stunned silence before bursting into sound. There’s giggling and disbelief and gloating ‘I told you so’s’, and if he knew Scott, and he did, his best friend would be running out of the Hale house in just under a minute, red-faced and twitching, unable to handle the ensuing speculation, especially his girlfriend’s teasing.

Stiles grinned as he leaned against the counter with coffee. He couldn’t wait until Derek woke up.

Author’s Notes: So this will be a series of (mostly) stand alone drabbles. Mostly Sterek and/or Pack fics. Will be everything from angst to humor. Enjoy and please review!

Summary: The alpha pack is defeated and all she can think is why didn’t she see this before? Sterek

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Fires

The gasping alpha managed to raise her head, intending to glare at those that had destroyed their plan, their very meaning. She meant to focus all her hatred and malice on them with her stare, hoping to curse them with her death to the very end of existence through sheer will. Instead, she drew up in shock.

How had they, had she, not noticed it before?

The Hale alpha stood, proud and sure beneath the blood over already healing injuries. His pack stood just behind him, battle-weary and triumphant. But in the coveted spot next to the alpha was the other one; the human she’d brushed off, underestimated with catastrophic consequences. He stood as tall as Derek, bleeding and bruised. Protective. The solid wall of them warily between her dying pack and their own.

She saw it in their eyes now, in the energy between them.

Her pack had never stood a chance.

They were something different than she’d seen before. She saw the fire of wrath in Derek’s eyes, steady and strong, tempered and honed by loss.

The human’s eyes were chaos, pure, unlimited potential. Their wild card. The factor of unpredictability that had given them the edge they needed.

The way they had fought together, how they fed off each other and took such subtle cues…

They were dangerous in inexplicable ways that had nothing to do with werewolves at all. Derek’s own power bolstered by the teenager; the loyal that stood and fought despite his own fears. They were perfect together. The chaos that could flash and scorch and defend. The strength that could scar and wound and protect.

All she and her pack had done was disturb something that should have been left well alone. The power they had was known now and they were going to use it.

She was suddenly almost glad these were her last moments because she knew. Everything was going to change; be ripped away and washed red and made new and she didn’t know what was going to survive their cataclysm.

Her vision dimmed as the pack gathered closer, edging forward as Derek made a rumbling noise in his throat, as Stiles shifted, shoulder angled back toward them a bit, communicating and calming easily. They still kept their eyes on her, waiting for the final confirmation of the danger having passed. Waiting for the lack of her heartbeat that she was sure, somehow, that human could sense too.

What had they done?

This pack, with these two leading them,

They were going to burn the world down.

Author’s Notes: What you need to know: Problems with the kanima thing are ongoing, but not resolved yet. The three betas are still with Derek. Allison has seen the wrong doings of her grandfather and has sided with Scott and Derek. She’s ‘detained’ after her allegiance is discovered and Scott of course wants to go bust her out. Derek’s not so enthusiastic, splintering the pack. Stiles is, as always, the link between them all, even if they won’t admit it. The one to follow after Scott to clean up his messes and the one to smack some sense into Derek when he needs it.

Summary: Allison allies with the pack, but is put in danger for it. The situation leads to fallout between Scott and Derek and, subsequently, the rest of the pack. Of course, Stiles is the link between them and Derek’s never stubborn enough to leave him in danger, even if he doesn’t yet know why. Pre-Sterek with knowing pack.

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We All Have Our Reasons to Fight

Scott’s a breath away from wolfing out, Stiles can tell and he knows Derek can too.

“They have Allison! We have to go rescue her!”

“From her own family? They’re hunters, her hunters.”

“Her grandfather’s cracked and her dad’s not going to go against him. If Gerard sends him out…they could hurt her just to get her out of the way!”

“It’s not my problem.”

Stiles gives him an incredulous look and Scott, Scott just explodes.

“I just told you-“

Derek rounds on him.

“She tried to kill us! Me specifically!  You think I just forgot that?!”

“She’s in danger because she tried to stand up to them! For us!”

Stiles sees Derek shut down, go cold and he knows the werewolf is done with the argument.

“She started all of it. It’s her mess to clean up.” He levels a look at Scott before turning away. “I’m not helping a hunter.”

Scott growls, but doesn’t waste anymore time. He stalks out of the warehouse as Derek turns and storms back into the rail car. Stiles hesitates on which moron to go after first. Finally, he follows after Derek, purposefully waiting for him to get far enough away from the pack that not every syllable passing between them can be heard. He knows the alpha will never go back on anything with the betas around for the argument.

“You’re just gonna let him walk into a den of hunters led by the craziest hunter since Kate,” Derek tenses, but Stiles doesn’t stop. “All on his own?”

Derek glares at him.

“It’s his decision. I’m not risking myself or my pack to help his little girlfriend.”

“I thought he was your pack?” Derek looks away sharply and Stiles whoops a little in his head. One point to the human.

“I’m not risking the rest of them for one lovesick teenager.

“In case you haven’t noticed, that’s what your entire pack is made of. If you let them all go because of a few stupid decisions, you’re going to be doing the lone wolf thing again pretty soon.”

“…This conversation is over.”

“Derek-“

“No!” Derek growls, an inch from Stiles’ face. “His mistakes are not my problem anymore. He’d let me, my pack, he’d let you, die in a second to save her! I’m not letting that happen.”

 Stiles glares at him, looking for any give. He doesn’t see any.

“He’s gonna get himself killed.”

Derek narrows his eyes, but he’s the one to turn away first.

“At least it won’t be us.”

Stiles stares at his back a second before shaking his head, frustrated and disappointed.

“…Fine.”

The teen grabs his backpack on the way out. If the entire pack is huddled by the door trying too hard to look inconspicuous, he doesn’t call them on it. Doesn’t have time. He has to catch up to his idiot friend before he’s an archery target board.

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Derek growls, stalking back and forth across the floor before he realizes what he’s doing and makes himself stop showing the obvious signs of his frustration. Stupid teenagers and their hopeless causes; wanting to put them all in danger for a hunter. Stupid Stiles and his blind loyalty wanting him to ignore every fiber of instinct and help one misguided beta.

He was pacing again.

“So…” the voice called from the entrance of the room. He glanced up to see Erica, Boyd and Issac to her sides. They were all keeping their distance from the alpha. “We’re not going after Scott, then?”

Derek snarled. He knew they’d been listening to the argument. At least since he’d roared at the kid and probably right from the start.

“No”. He saw them all exchange side glances. “You really want to put yourselves on the line for a hunter anyway?”

“No. Not particularly.” She drawled, seeming to hedge a bit. “But she is Scott’s girl and all…”

“And he’s one of us, right?” Issac spoke up. “Pack?”

Issac had latched onto the pack equals family idea quicker and harder than any of them. He clung to it. Derek was glad for that, but Issac was a beta. They all were. They knew only what they needed to. When to cut away from blind loyalty and do what was best for pack, that was an alpha’s job.

“Scott made his decision. He can see it through.” ‘To it’s inevitable bloody conclusion’, he felt himself bristle at the thought. His wolf whined at it, but he forced it down. He looked up at them. “Any of you want to follow him, you’re free to. Maybe you can drag back the pieces the hunters leave.” He winced at his own words, but it was as much as he’d allow himself to concede. He’d pretty much given them his permission to help Scott, but not his blessing.

He wasn’t all that surprised when they all just looked at each other and settled back outside. There was a thick air of tension among them, but none of them left. Derek didn’t like any of this and he knew there would be fallout; probably sooner rather than later.

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It had been a few hours since Scott had stormed off and the anxiety among the wolves hadn’t abated. No one was speaking, going about their business robotically, everyone on a hair trigger. When Issac’s phone beeped that he had a message, he jumped straight into the air. All eyes were immediately on him.

Derek turned to fully face Issac when the kid went dead pale.

“What-“ he started to ask, but Issac exploded at the same time.

“Stiles is with him. They’re pinned in.” Every back straightened. Issac looked up, eyes wide. “I think they’re hurt.”

The betas all turned to look at their alpha, but Derek was already moving through them, pulling on his jacket, jaw set.

“Let’s go.”

They fell in behind him without a second’s hesitation. Their bodies were all rigid with tension and purpose, but they looked slyly at each other, smiling knowingly at their alpha’s back.

Author’s Notes: Season 3 speculation. An alpha pack is moving in. If you kill an alpha, you inherit their power, right? But what happens if a human, if Stiles, kills an alpha that threatens the pack? He has no idea what’s happening and he’s scared because he knows how it is, one alpha to a pack. He finally has a cohesive pack, a family, and he doesn’t want to lose them.

This assumes that everyone has come together already as a real, no double agents, pack. They fight off the threat of the invading alphas together. Peter isn’t in this. Stiles and Derek are together, so Sterek.

Summary: Speculation on Season 3. If you kill an alpha, you inherit their power, right? What if you’re human? Sterek and pack-ness.

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Silver Like the Moonlight

“Stiles…” He doesn’t look up, doesn’t even really hear Derek.

He never wanted this. He wanted to stay human. Even if it made him weaker. Even if he’d never be the kind of strong the wolves were. Not even as strong as Lydia and Allison were. He didn’t want it.

And now here he is and everything’s different. Even if he couldn’t see the pack’s reaction to him, he’d know. Something’s changed. He can feel it as he stares at his hands, still covered in blood, body of the invading alpha lying at his feet. Something in him has changed. He wasn’t bitten. He wasn’t. He was sure…he thought he was sure…

“What-“, Stiles’ voice is broken, vision blurry because really, he already knows. He looks at his hands; they aren’t claws, not yet. “Derek, what am I?”

He’d seen his reflection. He doesn’t want to know but he needs to. Because he’s seen a lot of werewolves, other packs and his own.

And none of them had silver in their eyes.

He’d known as soon as he’d picked up Allison’s discarded machete that there would be a high price for what he was about to do. But it hadn’t been a choice, not really. Take his chance and kill the lead alpha or watch as their pack tore his pack apart. Take out the lead. Even in an alpha pack, there was still a leader.

Not being a choice didn’t make it hurt any less.

Stiles wants to break, but knows he can’t. The entire pack, beaten and battered as they are, is watching him. He has to hold together for them. He spends a very long time looking, really nowhere at all, lost in his own head. When Derek puts a hand against his jaw, Stiles cringes, but leans into it. When he looks up, he finds something unexpected.

The way Derek’s looking at him. It’s not horror or sympathy. Derek’s eyes are wide and bright, mouth slightly open as he just stares at Stiles.

Eyes daring to dart around the alpha, Stiles sees the rest of the pack in a similar state. They were looking at him with wide eyes and open expressions.

Like they were seeing something holy.

 “Stiles…” Derek’s fingers are stroking the side of his face. Stiles could feel the slight tremor in his hand. He braces himself for Derek’s answer. “You’re an alpha.”

A sob bursts free without his permission and he buries his face in his hands, sorrow so deep he feels like laughing. It was the worst of every outcome he’d imagined. Stiles knew what ‘alpha’ meant.

He’d have to leave. They were going to turn on him, turn cold and aggressive and force him out. His friends, pack, family, his lover, they were all going to leave him. Snap and snarl and ignore until he left them.

Only one alpha to a pack, a territory. Ever. That’s what this whole fight, this war had been about in the first place. Stiles had rarely believed he’d make it out of their battles with the alpha pack alive and whole, but he’d just never thought he’d be this kind of casualty.

Derek was trying to gently pull Stiles’ hands away from his face, but he resisted. The teen just wanted a little more time. Just a few more minutes to carve it into his memory; their perfectly imperfect family. When everything was warm and beautiful and every breath with them made him feel invincible.

When he was loved.

But Derek keeps pulling his hands and grabbing Stiles’ jaw, forcing him to look up and hear his fate laid before him. Stiles had never thought he was weak in this way, but he thought this might be it for him. He could never live through this. Finally having everything he wanted only to have it taken back in the cruelest way.

Derek is gently thumbing tears away from his closed eyes, brushing over Stiles’ cheekbones.

Maybe Derek wants to remember too.

But nothing can last. Stiles knew that before, knows it now. He just got caught up and let himself forget for awhile. He feels the alpha’s breath an inch from his face.

“You’re human.” Stiles eyes snap open. Betrayal sweeping across his devastated face at the obvious lie, wondering why Derek would want to hurt him more. Maybe it was already starting, pushing him away, out. But Derek’s not lying. Stiles knows what the wolf looks like when he does that and there’s nothing of a lie there. Confusion overtakes pain. But Derek’s smiling, looking on the verge of tears himself. “Stiles, I don’t know how, but…you’re human.”

Stiles’ mind has been kicked around enough by his emotions today and is not working quickly as a result.

“…You…said I was an alpha.”

“You are.” The teen goes to curl inward, back into a little ball of misery again, but Derek doesn’t let him, voice more forceful. “You’re an alpha, Stiles. A human alpha.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scott steps forward to where Stiles can see him clearly.

“We can tell. All of us.” He’s staring bright-eyed, the way they all are now. “He’s not lying. We can feel that you’re an alpha.”

“We can feel how strong you are.” Boyd tells him. “And how human.”

Stiles shakes his head slowly and looks back to Derek.

“It’s never happened. Humans can’t be…but you are.” Derek has a hand on his neck now. “Silver eyes.” He says it like he’s in a daze.

“Are you…you still going to run me off?” Derek recoils like he’s been physically hurt and Stiles sees a wave of it go through the rest of them.

“No! Never. You’re home. This is your home. And you’re our home.”

The rest of the pack is around them now.

“…I’m still pack?” Stiles isn’t getting it, but they can feel his pain, his hurt and grief about nightmare scenarios that are never to be.

Scott pushes forward, wraps his arms around his brother first. He’s quickly followed by Issac and then the others, humans and former were-lizards included. They surround him, touching him, listening to his heartbeat and trying to soothe the distress in their second alpha.

They’re…going to keep him? He can’t believe it. He’s read everything ever written about werewolves, sunk countless hours into research. He knows how this ends.

Derek smiles softly, watching them, his pack; their pack.

“You’ve always been my equal, Stiles. You’ve always cared for them, for us, like an alpha.” Derek moves closer and the wolves are quick to shift around, allow Derek closest to Stiles. “You are always pack.”

When Derek’s hands touch him, one on his neck and one on his waist, Stiles reaches forward and clings to him, shaking. Deliriously happy and relieved and hoping and praying this isn’t all in his head.

He buries his face against Derek’s collarbone and the wolf pushes into the juncture of his throat, nuzzling into the hollow there. He feels other hands on him, resting on his back, his shoulders, Scott’s head against his neck. The pack crowds in around him, against him, and Derek breathes in his ear.

“You’re mine.”

It feels like home.

Author’s Notes: Stiles is injured in the latest melee. The Sheriff witnesses him standing up for his pack and Derek saving his son. With Stiles safe and recovering, the two have a stilted, and long overdue chat. Hopefully awkwardly funny, but sweet too. For the sake of the story, the Sheriff already knows about werewolves and is okay with it. He’s actually more on edge that Derek Hale could be dating his son, werewolf or not.

Summary: Derek and the Sheriff stand at Stiles’ side, injured and sleeping, but okay. Questions are asked and understandings are reached. Sterek and concerned papa Stilinski-ness.

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Conversations in Hospital Rooms

The Sheriff shifted a bit, standing in a hospital room next to his sleeping son with Derek Hale. He prided himself on being straightforward and at ease in any situation, but there was just no good way to ask if a former suspected murderer was dating his son and what his intentions were. Male or female didn’t matter to him, but Stiles was his boy. His son who had grown up far too fast with eyes far too old; who, when he loved, did so fiercely, blindly. He would always be unreasonably protective of him.

But Derek seemed to be too, especially if tonight was any indication. That was the main reason he hadn’t tried to shoot the kid yet.

“You and Stiles…” the man trailed off, making a helpless sweeping motion toward his son. In theory, he thought he was too old to die from embarrassment or awkwardness. In practice, he wasn’t so sure.

Hale, for his part, stood just as he had a moment ago, back straight, fingers just brushing Stiles’ hand in a way the Sheriff was sure he thought his father wouldn’t notice.

Wrong.

Derek didn’t turn his head, but the Sheriff saw the man’s eyes flicker to look at him sidelong, wary. But if the wolf was at all shaken, it didn’t show in his voice, strong and sure.

“Yes.” The Sheriff let out a breath. Half relief at not having to finish his question, and half just a long-suffering sigh because what had his son gotten himself into this time? Still, he plowed on and this time, the words were effortless. There were a thousand questions he could ask, should ask, but he knew the one that mattered.

“What is he to you?”

At that, Derek leaned forward a bit. He didn’t really move, just…curled in; something about the way he held himself softening till the Sheriff almost thought he was seeing a different person. It shocked him a bit.

In the past 24 hours, he’d seen Hale as a still-possible serial killer (who happened to be a werewolf) and watched him fight with, and for, his pack. He’d seen him exasperated, but strangely tolerating, as he listened to Stiles ramble meanderingly even as they headed off to what promised to be a bloody confrontation. He’d seen Derek blind with rage and finally, he’d watched, eyes wide in his own horror as Stiles went down defending the betas, as Derek snarled and lunged and howled, bowing himself over his injured son protectively. Now…

Now the Sheriff just saw the worried kid that, like his own, had grown up too soon. The hard lines of tension in the wolf’s body finally relenting with tentative relief at the promise that what he loved, what he’d held tightly and tenderly in his arms the entire way to the hospital, was going to be okay.

Something close to a smile stole across Derek’s face as he looked at Stiles and it was so easy to see the devotion in his normally carefully schooled expression, that he wondered how he’d missed it before. In the last day, the Sheriff’s fledgling suspicions about the two had been more than confirmed. It wasn’t obvious, not even in Stiles. If he hadn’t raised the kid, he’d have missed the undercurrent of worry in his constant chattering earlier; he’d have thought he’d misread the adoration in his son’s voice. If nothing else, it was good to see that those feelings were returned, maybe a few times over.

Derek curled his hand around Stiles’, weaving their fingers together in a complicated way born of much practice and not just a little instinct. This wasn’t new.

“More than I meant to let him be.” Like he knew the Sheriff would want a bit more than that, he added, “Home.”

When Derek said the word, it was like the wolf was only just realizing the truth of it as it came out of his mouth. The Sheriff saw his fingers tighten over his son’s. It was exactly what he needed to hear and see.

The Sheriff slid a chair over toward Derek with his foot, smiling as the other man took the gesture in for what it was with wide, surprised eyes. They settled down, one on each side of the bed. They didn’t need to speak to each other to know the purpose in that. Honey-gold eyes were going to open and see them there together and, because it was Stiles, there was going to be flailing and shouting.

This would not be good for the healing of his injury-prone kid and the Sheriff wasn’t exactly surprised that Derek seemed to know that too. They shared a wry, knowing look and waited, ready to gently restrain their assigned soon-to-be-flailing limbs until they could calm Stiles down and assure him that, no, they weren’t going to kill each other and no one was going to jail.

As the minutes ticked by and Derek’s eyes never left the teen’s still face, the Sheriff found himself appreciating the idea of having someone else there to look after his kid who was forever stumbling into one new impossible mess after another. He was settling down rather comfortably into the idea of a son-in-law. But he supposed that was a discussion for another day.

Author’s Notes: Stiles is just trying to relax in the park, maybe read a book or surf the internet aimlessly, just spend a day with no one trying to kill him and no werewolves, lizards, or hunters crawling all over him and his life. But apparently, they’re all reduced to toddlers without him there and Derek is not amused. The woman he’s sitting next to in the park is though. She listens in as Stiles tries to talk down a frustrated Derek and misinterprets everything. Though, what she says does make Stiles look at things in a new way.

Summary: Stiles just wants one freakin’ day away from the pack that he had, somehow, become an important part of. His harassment is witnessed, and enjoyed, by a random woman. Outside POV. Pack-ness with hints of Sterek.

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Why, Again, With the Tree?

The woman watched her children from the bench as they climbed all over the parks’ playset, and each other, smiling. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a boy walking along the path, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked, well, harassed would be a good word. Like many others that came to the park just to unwind, get away.

She noticed him turn in a slightly clumsy circle, looking around for a place to sit. He stumbled over his own feet and tried to right himself again before anyone noticed. He glanced around after recovering to find her smiling at him in amusement. He blushed and ducked his head a bit.

Knowing there were no other free benches, she scooted over and patted the seat beside her, ushering the boy over. He seemed unsure for a moment, but quickly acquiesced.

As boys his age were want to do, he all but collapsed next to her.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Gets kind of packed here around this time with school letting out and all.” She shrugged. “Just needed a bit of a getaway that’s not running away?”

He considered her for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, I guess. Just…needed to breathe a bit maybe?”

She nodded, understanding. She didn’t pry into other peoples’ business, but she liked to guess, build stories around those she saw. And this was an interesting one.

He couldn’t be out of high school yet. Even without the backpack, he was just too fresh faced. With the amount of stress he seemed to carry in his shoulders and the way he’d weaved his way to this part of the park where the children usually played, she was going to say he was likely a young father; they made them younger and younger nowadays, not that she was any old crone herself, so she was far from judging. He was likely feeling inundated by his new accountability for another life and was looking for a few moments of peace. But he was caring, responsible. Liking his new life, but overwhelmed by it, adjusting. He wasn’t trying to run away, a good guy. That’s why he’d have come here.

He breathed deep and sighed, moving to pull a book or a laptop out before jolting back up, looking embarrassed.

“Uh, sorry. I totally forgot to introduce myself.” He reached out and she shook his hand, glad her assessment had been right. “I’m-“

His phone rang and he looked immediately annoyed. He scowled and looked at the screen, groaning.

“Oh, come on. Are you kidding me?”

She smiled in a knowing way. He was so young, the kid must be young too. No doubt causing trouble for whoever was babysitting  and they were calling in reinforcements; much to her bench-mate’s dismay. He flipped open the phone.

“What?” She couldn’t hear what the voice on the other end was saying, but it did not sound pleased.

“Yeah, I- Listen, Derek-“ Oh, so an adopted kid then. Or surrogate. It hadn’t been an accident. She was impressed that one so young would knowingly take on the responsibility of a parent. She knew she liked this kid and her intuition was rarely wrong.

“Why is he in a tree?...Can you get him out of the tree?” Stiles closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Try.” He sighed out. And then, with a voice speaking of the untold hardship of standing alone on an island surrounded by a sea of idiots, ground out, “Try harder. What? What is she covered in?...Why?!”

The young mother smothered a laugh. She knew how it was raising kids. She looked back at her two little ones, rough housing on the monkey bars. It could make you want to tear your hair out. And even when a good intentioned partner did try to help out, if they weren’t really experienced in the day to day of it, well, it didn’t generally turn out spectacularly.

She remembered her own well meaning husband telling her to take a day off. She’d come home to an obvious tactical nuclear strike of glitter, glue, and flour and an unconscious family; her two girls draped over their crayola colored father.

“What, no! I’ve been gone for like, an hour. You can handle it. Just keep them all apart and- are you throwing things at him to get him down? Stop it! Look, have Boyd help…why’s he on the roof?! That’s not helping! That’s the opposite of helping! What about Jackson? He’s…what do you mean he’s stuck? Stuck in what?!...Again? Why?”

He winced and held the phone slightly away from his ear and the woman could hear the flustered, frustrated voice yelling on the other end.

“Yeah, I- Fine, Fine! Just- I’m on my way. Just don’t make it any worse!” He snapped the phone closed, looking decidedly unhappy. She tried to help.

“They always mean well when they say they’ll watch the kids.” She scoffed a bit. “How many do you have?”

He looked at her again, seeming caught off guard for a second, but then it passed and he gave a wry smile.

“Uh, five?” He said like it was a question, scratching the back of his head. “I guess seven if you count the other two.”

“Wooo. Good luck.” He huffed a laugh, pulling his phone out as it buzzed twice in succession.

“Yeah, thanks.” The boy frowned as he checked the text, muttering. “Geez, I said I’m on my way already.” His phone buzzed again and then again until he finally growled and shut it off, standing abruptly.

“I better go before…well, the things that I can think that could happen are almost innumerable in the extent and variety of their terribleness.”

“A destroyed house?”

“Inter species war.” He shrugged nonchalantly. She laughed at the joke, but there was a look on him like he was finding amusement only in how she found the wrong thing funny.

The woman smiled at him as he packed up his things and threw his bag over his shoulder. She hoped she wasn’t being too rude to this boy she’d just met and didn’t even know the name of, but she really wanted to know,

“How old are your little holy terrors, anyway?”

He didn’t skip a beat.

“Youngest is 19. Have a nice day.” Stiles waved at the shocked-silent woman over his shoulder as he walked back to his jeep. He just hoped Derek hadn’t managed to actually kill any of the betas yet and that someone had a damn good reason why Scott was in a tree.